Harry's trip to India
by Vanwilder
Summary: Harry, betrayed by his best friend and Dumbledore, decides that he deserves a vacation. There he finds control, power, and peace. This is a journey, from boyhood to adulthood. Post OotP. Not focused on pairing. NOT SLASH. Sporadic updates.
1. Author's Notes

AN :

I won't usually write AN's, as I like to create a perfect storybook like format in my stories, and AN's detract from that look. But, here goes:

Rorschach's blot has given permission to everyone, who may want to use his ideas and story plots, so long as his story's name and link is mentioned. While I have no clue regarding how to add a link in this site, the story that I have borrowed the basic idea from is the story titled Make a Wish.

Also, I maketh no wage from this story, and all the trademarked devices belong to their respective holders.

So, Joanne Rowling Murray owns everything Harry Potter.

The above goes true for the entire story.

AN2 :

Guys, whether you like it, hate it, want to see it improved, whatever you wish; just please add a review. Us small-scale writers thrive on reviews to improve ourselves. It is how we get to know what you want in a story. And I always read all reviews. So please guys, help us out a bit.

Thanks!

AN3 :

Rorschach has finally given an official "go ahead," so it looks like this fic will stay for the time being. Cheers!!

 ** _Lectio beatus_**


	2. Chapter 1

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 1**

 _What do you do, when you find out that your closest friend has maintained this friendship with the sole desire for money?_

 _Where_ _do you run, hide, and to whom do you confide in, when you know that all those years of friendship; with its adventures, laughs, secrets told in whispers; had all been simply a setup_?

 _Oh,_ _don't think for a minute that there weren't reasons. Reasons why you have to go back to your abusive relatives every summer; why you couldn't get to know your Godfather; why you had to fight in a tournament with a very high fatality rate; why nobody told you about a bloody prophecy, when your whole existence seems to revolve around it; why you had to open your deepest secrets, desires, and fears to one of the most hated people in his short life; why you had to suffer through a pink coloured demon in a toad's body; and why you couldn't possibly have a bit of rest in YOUR GODDAMN LIFE!_

 _Okay_ _, Potter. Calm down. You have been through many things. You bloody well killed a Basilisk, with Gryffindor's sword, while still battling Voldemort himself, at the tender age of **twelve**. You can get by yourself. Yes, you can. No, you don't care for them, or need them. No you don't. Don't give up now. Continue reading the Ginger prat's diary. You need to know. You have to._

And so he kept reading Ron's diary, and every time he came across even more lies, his eyes dimmed just a little, and his heart ached just a little.

There was a small ray of sunshine, however. He had found no lies or manipulations from his bushy haired friend. The friend who had taken a curse so dark, it was coloured sickly violet, to save him. Who was still recuperating, sleeping peacefully in the Hospital Wing, under the tender care of Madam Pomfrey.

Oh, how he hoped with all the hope left within him that at least Hermione was a true friend, not one who had helped him for some petty coins of gold.

He also came to another realisation. Dumbledore was not what he thought of him. He wasn't the great Wizard Of The Light people made him out to be.

 _Why? Because he was the one paying Ron so that he would remain his friend, and so that he would tell the old man all his secrets._

He needed to get away from it all. Even after all the things he had endured, he had _always_ felt that he had a true friendship with Weasley. It was one of the constant facts in his life. The sun sets in the west, and he was Ron's best mate. Well, no more.

He needed to get away from Hogwarts, and fast.

 _Well, the Thestrals were as good as ever, yes? And he needed_ _to visit Diagon Alley, for whatever he needed to get away. Sounds as good a plan as any. People would probably chalk up his absence to his moodiness and anger. By the time they realised, he would by out of their reach._

So he flew, and reached the Alley about 4 hours later. It was about 2:00 PM. The Wizarding Britain was still reeling from the shock that _He_ was back, seemingly from the dead.

He made his way to Gringotts, removed his Cloak and entered, moved to the back of one of the lines, and waited for his turn.

"Yes?" said the Goblin teller, his tone making it perfectly clear that the absotutely last thing he wanted to do was talk to a human.

"Master Goblin, I am Harry Potter, and need a private meeting with someone who can tellme the state of my vaults," replied Harry, trying to be respectful, but not taking time for usual human greetings. Time was gold, after all.

"Three Galleons per hour," was the curt reply he recieved.

"Deal."

And so they entered one of the private booths connected to the entrance hall.

"Well, what do you want?" demanded the Goblin.

"I wanted to enquire about the amount of money I possess, the vaults I possess, etc. I also need this conversation to be held in strict privacy, so that not even your human employees may hear that I was even here."

"Straight to the point I see. It will be as you say Mr Potter. For the information regarding vaults, it would be easiest for you to take an Inheritance Test, which may be conducted within the hour, for 30 Galleons."

"What exactly will this 'test' entail? And will the result be public knowledge? Can any other employees find the information?" Harry wasn't feeling particularly trustful at the moment.

"Oh, a wizard with half a brain! It's a rare occasion indeed. Hmm, now to answer your questions.

"The test will use seven drops of your blood, and will be over within a quarter of an hour. However, I cannot divulge its secrets.

"The test results are not public knowledge, but there has never been any particular need to hide them. Usually you wizards boast to all and sundry about your lineage and wealth. So it is simply filed with all the other test results, and may be accessed by employees when in need of information. But, there have been many a times when a form has been misfiled. Bad business, very bad business indeed," the goblin replied, examining his sharp claws.

"Let's get this test started then, and I won't look too closely if ten Galleons disappear from my vault. And if the results are misfiled, what can you do?" Harry said with a shrug, giving a toothless grin.

The Goblin smirked, a truly terrifying sight. "I see that we seem to understand each other. Very well. Follow me."

The Goblin led the young man through a door and a few passageways, finally entering an unmarked door, looking same as all the rest.

It was a small room, with a desk and two chairs on either side of it. Kept on the desk was an ornate dagger, a particularly beautiful quill, various pieces of ordinary parchment, an empty crystal bowl, and a vial containing a clear liquid.

As Harry sat on one of the chairs, the Goblin filled half of the bowl with the liquid, dipped the quill in said liquid, cleaned the dagger, and offered it to Harry.

"Please slice your hand with the dagger, and let exactly seven drops of your blood enter the bowl. The dagger is enchanted, it will heal your cut presently. Then you may sit back and let magic do its job."

Harry followed the instructions and was mildly surprised when the liquid turned brilliant green in colour, and the quill immediately started writing _something_ on the parchment. He couldn't understand anything, but thought that it was probably the Goblin's own language, or something. _Probably should have paid attention in Binns' class, oh well._

It took about a minute before the quill was done writing. The Goblin pressed something on the desk at his side, and a second piece of parchment appeared, this one in english. He passed it on to Harry.

~~~~~~~

 **Inheritance Test Result**

 _Name_ : _Harry James Potter_

 _Age: 15 years old_

 _Status: emancipated minor_

 _Father's name: James Fleamont Potter_

 _Mother's name: Lily Potter neé Evans_

 _Can claim the following vaults:_

1\. Vault 687: Potter family trust vault for an heir before he reaches age of majority.

2\. Vault 97: Potter family Heirlooms and Money vault, can be accessed by Head of House Potter, and those he authorizes.

3\. Vault 56: Black family Heirlooms and Money vault, can be accessed by Head of House Black, and those he authorizes.

4\. Vault 77: Lestrange family vault, per the marraige contract between Bellatrix Druella Lestrange neé Black and Rodolphus Marcus Lestrange, due to inability of providing the heir as per the contract.

~~~~~~~

Harry sat there, thinking hard.

 _I wish Hermione was here with me. Oh, well. She has already suffered enough because of me..._

 _Oy. Quit the wool gathering Potter, Goblins don't like waiting._

 _I should_ _probably ask the goblins for checking the contents of Black and Lestrange Vaults for any harmful artifacts and enchantments, Merlin knows those are a bunch of insane people._

"What would, approximately, be the cost of completely cleansing a vault off any harmful artifacts and magic. Of course, the objects destroyed must be harmful to the user, and objects such as swords, daggers need not be destroyed," he added the last part quickly, knowing that the Goblins would use any opportunity to harm a wizard financially, and would charge them for it without remorse.

"I think we will get along splendidly wizard," the Goblin said with a barked laughter.

"I would also need any wizards doing this task to perform an Oath of Confidentiality, this part is a necessity I am afraid."

"That can be arranged. The list of objects and enchantments destroyed will be provided. Be aware, the fees of what you are asking for will be in the ten thousand to twenty thousand Galleons range."

"I can agree to the price. How soon can the work be finished? I am probably going to leave the country within the coming week."

"It usually takes three to four days time. If we are in agreement?"

"Yes we are. I would further need to ask this: Is there a way to directly access my vaults' monies? I will not be able to visit the bank for some time, and will probably need a lot of gold. Also, can you provide a similar object for Muggle currency? "

"There is, though it isn't used very much, due to the simple fact that anyobe who has access to said object can withdraw any amount of money directly, so theft chances are extremely high. If you accept full responsibility for any such situation, should it arise, we can provide it for a sum of 40 Galleons."

Harry thought for a minute, then agreed.

Within five minutes, paperwork had been (mis)filed, and Harry was the owner of a particularly non-descripit wallet, from which he could withdraw notes and coins of any currency.

He stood up, not to waste any time of the Goblin (He didn't say his name, did he?) and said, "Master Goblin, you have been very helpful to me. However, I would like to extend this courtesy for a method of transport from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts. I have been gone for more than six hours. They would start wondering about me, and I do not need any particular attention apay for the service of course."

"Of course. It will be 4 Sickels 2 Knuts. We will meet again four days later to discuss the vaults. Ask the Teller to show you to Boneslice."

"Thank you."

And so, a Goblin was called to the door, and Harry was escorted to the entrance hall, where he was provided with two portkeys. He left the Bank just as William Weasley entered, having reached Britain for helping his family in war.

As Harry made his way to the Shrieking Shack, he thought about what he was going to do.


	3. Chapter 2

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 2**

Four days later found Harry walking along Diagon Alley, hat on head to prevent recognition. It was about 10 PM, with shops starting to open. Not that Gringotts was _ever_ closed, not at all. It was, after all, bad business.

He entered the Bank, asked to be shown to Boneslice, and followed the sneering goblin to another unnamed door.

A knock later, and he was seated. Harry began, "Master Goblin, how goes the cleansing of the vaults?" He asked innocently enough.

The Goblin's already frowning face took a constipated took. "We have been... unable... to properly destroy or disenchant one artifact." He said with utmost difficulty.

Harry barely held in his laugh, barely. "What can you tell me about this object? If a particular thing is needed to destroy it, maybe I could find it?" Harry asked. He wasn't prepared to hear the next part.

"Oh, child! What can you do that our curse-breakers, the best in the job really, couldn't do?" The Goblin asked mockingly.

Harry gritted his teeth. He was simply frustrated with being called a child. _'No, Harry, I can't tell you about the prophecy. Perhaps when you are older.' And, 'No Harry, we cannot tell you what the Order is doing, nor can you participate. Maybe when you're older..."_ Well, Fuck It.

"Master Boneslice," use of the Goblin's name, "please do tell me. Perhaps if there is even a small amount of chance? After all, you cannot truly _not_ complete your job, think about your honour?"

The Goblin ground his teeth, but eventually said, "Feindfyre usually does the job, but due to its various protections, ancient magic at that, we simply can't find anything which may destroy it. What we need, is about two thousand year old Basilisk's Venom, dipped in Goblin Silver, be plunged into the object. I don't think a more destructive or corrosive object exists. As I said, out of your scope. It's not as if you may find a huge Basilisk hidden in a Chamber somewhere..."

Harry had started to smile as the description was being given, by the end of it his smile was positively feral.

"Oh Boneslice, and if I do happen to know such a Basilisk, indeed in a hidden Chamber, while also knowing a thousands of years old Goblin forged Silver sword, having absorbed said Basilisk's Venom?"

Initially, the Goblin's face was being incredulous, by the end he had both eyebrows raised to the hairline and disbelief plain across his face.

"This is not something to joke about Mr Potter..." Harry cut him off.

"No. I am being serious. Oh, can Goblins use a penseive? Do you perchance have one at the moment?"

"Yes and yes Mr Potter." That's a relief.

"Well, please bring it here, and I will show you my memory of the Basilisk. I am also willing to swear an oath for its authenticity."

And so, a penseive was brought, the memory played starting from the introduction of Riddle, to the end of the Diary.

The Goblin was looking in shock and awe, while Harry was grinning widely. He had won the perceived dominance contest, after all.

"Well, Mr Potter..." he floundered for words, but eventually said, "I am very honoured to have met you, and to be able to witness such an epic battle. I would also make an unreserved apology about how I have been treating you and belittling you. Please, do not cut ties with our Bank.

"What you have accomplished here, a team of 20 fiercest Goblins couldn't hope to accomplish. So, I would like to honour you with the title of a Warrior. Please accept this title, it will be to your best interests.

"I would also like our Director, Ragnok, to view the memory, because officially only he can give titles in our culture. Worry not, no humans shall know of this if that is what you deem necessary. You may even have more benefits after the viewing."

So, after a moment of thought, he followed Boneslice to the Director's door. He waited with the sneering Goblin guards for about five minutes, while Boneslice and Ragnok conversed.

Finally, he was asked to enter, and provide the memory.

Inside the memory, the Director uttered a series of expeltives, both in Gobbledygook and English, when the Basilisk entered the Chamber, golden light glinting ominously from its thick scales.

The sword brought a brief greedy look on the Goblin, but then he saw what the young man sitting across him could do with said sword, and ruthlessly squashed those thoughts. An alive Goblin, was a profitable Goblin.

When the Horcrux was destroyed, not that Harry knew about them, even the Director, the shrewdest of the Goblins, _had to_ acknowledge the Basilisk-slayer was a Warrior.

Soon, the order was sent that he was a Goblin friend, and to provide him whatever aid he asked for, for a fee of course. They also managed to keep the Human employees completely out of the loop, Harry had no idea how.

When he finally came back to Boneslice's office, he was tired. It was very exhausting to view the memory, to relive those moments of terror filled bravery.

So he showed a bit of mild surprise, when a younger Goblin entered, with a complete English lunch, even. Boneslice got his own meal, and they continued the discussion through the lunch. Why would one lose valuable gold for such small things as manners?

"Do you know what that Diary was?" Seeing his head shake in denial, he continued. "That was a Horcrux. It can be any object, which has been treated with the darkest arts to become a soul container. We have never heard of anyone creating more than one of those. One has to be insane to truly make more than one of those. And before you ask, yes, the artifact I was talking about is a Horcrux. Now the all important question, where is the sword of Gryffindor?"

"Last I saw it in Headmaster's office, inside a glass case."

"That does complicate matters, doesn't it? I can place the object inside a magic suppression room till the summer ends, so that you may obtain the sword at the start of the next year."

"That is good, then. Now, however, I need to go on an extended vacation outside Europe this summer, and I need Muggle identification documents, and something to conceal my identity, so that I may only be found when I want to."

The Goblin pondered this for a moment, then said, "There is a shop down in Knockturn Alley, that deals with exactly the stuff you need, but, this is the official warning to never go to the shop named The Phoenix and the Basilisk, and to never knock twice on the door and say the phrase, 'Aldin Bishop Xenakis'to the shopkeeper, and to never buy any documents or other useful things from him." The Goblin winked.

Harry was grinning. "Of course, Master Goblin, thank you for telling me exactly what not to do. I think that completes my business here."

Just as he was standing up, the Goblin asked, "What happened to the Basilisk? What did you do with the carcass?"

Harry stared. "What should I do with it?"

The Goblin groaned loudly, then said, "Please do sell it, it may still be worth a fortune after 3 years. You do know that you have complete claim over the body, as you slayed it without using dark magic?"

"I wasn't aware, no. How can we remedy this situation?"

"We can send a team of Goblins for extracting and harvesting the Basilisk, for a fee of course. However it may blow your cover. Do you have a way to go unnoticed inside the Chamber?"

"I may have one. How soon can the team be assembled? How long will they need to be inside the Chamber?"

"About four to five hours, however food can be arranged to go with them, so they may not need to come back in between. Also, the team can be arranged by this evening around 6 PM."

"Please do so. I will be waiting inside Shrieking Shank at 6:30 for the team."

"Okay. Oh, in all this excitement we forgot about the cleansing of your vaults. The final cost was 17,687 Galleons and 6 Knuts. The amount has been deducted from the Potter Family Vault. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, Master Boneslice. It was good doing business with you. May gold flow into your vaults and blood be tasted by your weapons."

"And may you continue making profit and your enemies tremble."

It took about six hours for the complete harvesting of the Basilisk. All procured parts were stored in a seperate vault inside an advanced stasis charm, to keep the parts fresh for as long as needed.

The next morning he very carefully gauged whether he had been found, but the teachers were as clueless as ever. It made him think about the vaunted Wards in this castle, and if they truly could stop danger from crossing its threshold.

And so he again put up a show of eating breakfast, so that people may keep their nose in their own business.

He left the castle by 9:00 AM, eager to get out of this godforsaken country.


	4. Chapter 3

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter** **3**

Entering Knockturn Alley was another strange experience for him, he thought as he searched for the shop named _The Phoenix and the Basilisk_.

He kept to the shadows, even as he moved from one shop to the next. It wasn't as if he could ask anyone, people would know that he was new here, and that was probably the last thing he wanted.

Eventually he stumbled across a shop which was as old and shabby looking as all the others, with the faded words _The Phoenix and the Basilisk_ written across the shop front.

He knocked twice on the door, which looked like a gentle breeze would topple it, and uttered the words, "Aldin Bishop Xenakis."

The door was opened by a middle aged man, with faded brown hair, average height, adopting an 'I-am-your-friend' posture with the arms holding the door ajar.

In fact, Harry was overly cautious due to the fact that he was so utterly average. Nobody was that unassuming. It was as if his brain was being told to completely ignore him.

The man said, "Why, hello there young man! What is such a fine lad like yourself doing in Knockturn?"

Which meant, 'I know you are small, and there won't be anyone to help you if you get in trouble' for the more paranoid variety of people. Harry was one of them.

"I need Muggle identification documents and such, a passport, and then we'll see what more you have to offer."

Which was a more respectful way of saying, 'Shut up and do your job.' Two could play this game, Harry decided.

"Ah, straight to the point, I see. Very well. What kind of documents do you need?"

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. Finally, he said, "Sir, are you willing to swear an oath to keep this conversation and my presence here confidential? I will need this oath before I can tell you about my specific requirements."

"Yes of course, though it will cost you 3 Galleons." Three Galleons changed hands and an oath was administered.

"My name..." here Harry paused a bit for dramatics "is actually unimportant. All you need to know is that I have had enough of this country, and I want a vacation.

"I need all documents needed to create a new persona in the Muggle world. I have decided to take an extended vacation outside Britain, but it could be anywhere, from sea shores to mountain ranges, so please give me anything that could help me. I will need other objects, like a wizarding tent, or Featherlight bags. I will also need something to mask my appearance, just like you have done."

The shopkeeper was busy taking out the various things as Harry listed them. "You are observant, young man, very observant. Instead of buying the various things individually, won't it be better to buy one of these beauties?" He asked while showing a deep blue coloured Trekking Backpacks, filled with tools and books, though deceptively light in weight.

Inside was guide books to many different places around the world, specific gear for all kinds of different activities, like trekking and skiing, and also had Anti-Theft enchantments woven into the material of the bag.

Harry was very curious about why nobody used them in the Wizarding World, if they were as useful as the shopkeeper seemed to imply.

"Yes, there is a very good reason," the shopkeeper explained on his inquiry, "This bag was made and patented by a Muggleborn Witch a decade ago. The tools are all useful only if you go into the Muggle world for the adventures. Now take into account the blatant prejudice that this world has against Muggles, and you have your answer."

 _Which_ , harry thought, _is a very good answer. It just isn't the complete answer._

But he opted to not ask, it seemed like much too personal a question, and Harry was never one to invade the others' privacy.

Only a few things had to be bought separately. The magical tent was one. The _profestus_ bracelet, which was used to dull people's appearance, was another. Another half an hour in the shop, and he was fully equipped for a journey to anything short of the Earth's center.

As he paid and left the shop, the old shopkeeper sighed, feeling every one of his years. "Maybe someday we will meet again, young Harry, perhaps even in this decade. And when we do, perhaps I will have the answers you need," he said, gazing out of the shop's window, eyes on the retreating back of the Boy-Who-Lived. Nicholas Flamel turned back, waiting for the next Hero. This was his gift and his curse.

*

It took two whole days for Harry to decide where he wanted to go. Europe was out of question, Dumbledore was Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, so he probably had a lot of influence here.

That left America and Asia, as he wanted a pleasant climate, and Africa and Antarctica were anything but pleasant. He could go down under, but he had heard rumors that any moving thing there was lethal, and he didn't particularly care for another adventure with his life on the line.

So, America or Asia. Tough choice indeed. Oh well, it was best if he was in a country where english wasn't the primary language; another safeguard. So, Asia.

Then, he started researching the various countries in Asia, and finally decided on India. He could visit one of the highest mountains, to acres of lively beaches, all the while staying in India. Food also varied from place to place, or so he read.

And so, finally, he left the castle, with every intention of leaving Britain, the day of the end of term feast. People would be searching the whole castle for the various misplaced things, and would hopefully not notice his absence too much.

He went straight to Gringotts, asking Boneslice for a Portkey to India. He winked and showed his documents, when asked for them by a Goblin, Boneslice grinning wickedly. When all was said and done, he waved a farewell to Boneslice and activated his portkey.

He landed on his bum, as usual, and quickly scanned the place he had arrived. Seeing no immediate threats, he allowed himself to relax and observe the place . He was in a room, which only had one door and no windows. The walls were soft cream coloured, lights a soft yellow, the flooring was in opulent Rosewood. All in all, it was a roroom which showcased a quiet elegance.

It felt as if he should remain silent, breathe slowly, so as to maintain the rich atmosphere.

A few seconds passed, then a group of three people entered the door and closed it behind them. Harry tensed and his hand started inching towards his wand hidden in his sleeve.

One of the three people, a man with a ducktail beard, wearing an immaculate suit complete with a tie and an aviator style glasses, stepped forward and held out his hand, showing them to be completely empty. He then spoke in a crisp, business like tone, "We are not here to harm you. This is one of the standard rooms assigned for recieving any and all portkeys from outside India. If you would show us the necessary documents?"

Harry relaxed a trifle and carefully extracted said documents from inside the bag.

After examining them, he was shown out the door, through a delightfully artistic and colourful garden, to the road.

He reflected that people here weren't piss poor, as shown by the Muggle Britain, but rather rich. Or maybe he had visited just one aspect of it. Shrugging his shoulder, he called a taxi and went to a nearby hotel, to relax for the evening and plan for the remainder of summer.

As he opened the Guide to India, provided by the thoughtful shopkeeper, he came across a warning.

 _One of the first thing that should be noted is that not every law in Wizarding Britain applies to Magical India. For example, people here are free to use magic, regardless of their age._

 _As any Britain made Wands may trigger the Trace, the following are the directions for removing the Trace from your wand._

 _Take note, that once the Trace is removed, you will still be able to use your Wand in Britain, though without the trace_

Harry performed the spell to remove the trace from the wand.

———————

The next mornimg, he went to nearby sightseeing. He was in Delhi, and there were many incredible sights to see and foods to enjoy.

He was just trying out the "Pani-puri," which is a very famous snack in whole of India, when 5 Death Eaters portkeyed in, right in front of his shop.

"We are here for you, Harry Potter. Come quitely, and these Muggles need not be harmed," shouted one of the thugs, wand waving widely as if threatening some invisible Muggle.

And so Harry did the only thing to do here. He fired dozens of reductors on the group. When he was finally sure that none of them were conscious, he went to the one who looked like the leader, and _ennervated_ him.

"Who are you after?"

"I won't tell a thing. I have rights as a British citizen..."

"Oh, but does it look like I am from Law Enforcement? The quicker you talk, the more fingers you'll have."

"We were here for Harry Potter. One of His followers put a tracking charm on him. That's all I know, I swear!"

" _Stupefy."_ Such pathetic people...

"Magical Police! Stay where you are! Hands where I can see them!"

"You! Drop your wand and step away. Slowly."

"I do not want to give _them"_ he spat the word, "my wand if I can help it."

"Then slowly hold your wand by the tip, and hand it over."

The police visibly relaxed when he gave the wand.

"What happened here Mr..."

"Black, and these scum wanted to kidnap Harry Potter to their leader. They had started firing everywhere and I had to contain the situation quickly, so I did."

"Why did you start with _Reducto_ 's? Why not use stunners?"

"I have come to realize that its hard to fight if you're missing an arm or a leg. Stunners allow your friends to wake you up and continue to fight. I didn't take the chance."

"You may wait here while we check your story with the witnesses."

"Forgive me, but may I ask a few questions while we wait?"

"You may."

"Do you know any good restaurants around here?"

"Do you prefer magical or non?"

"Muggle, if you may..."

"Oh yes, that dratted word is still in use in the West, I see. The _Muggle_ world is but a race of sub-humans that are fit to lick your boot, isn't it right Mr Black?" The officer, already on guard, was positively seething in anger by the time he finished speaking.

" _No_." It came higher pitched than Harry would have preferred. "No, sorry for the use of that word. I do not feel that the Magical world is in any way superior to the Non-magical world. I have simply grown up using that term, so it was not meant to be derogatory."

The Officer relaxed visibly, before he eyed him up and down. "We may just get along well. My name is Officer Faisal Mohabir, Law enforcement of Delhi Sector."

"Well Officer Mohabir, My name is Leonardo Black, friends usually call me Leo or Mr Black."

The Officer turned to one of his men, and spoke with him in hushed tones. Then he turned back and said, "Mr Black? Your story checks out. So you're free to go. But I would like to talk a bit with you."

"As long as I am allowed to eat lunch, I am all ears."

"Ah, I can show you Delhi's cuisine, then. Let's go."


	5. Chapter 4

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 4**

"Mr Black, do you prefer street food, or would you like to dine at a high-end restaurant?"

"What do you recommend Officer Mohabir?"

"If you've got a strong constitution, then I would firmly recommend street food. You can taste different kind of foods from all over India here."

"Street food it is then. I would prefer something with meat in it, the place I am staying is good, but doesn't serve any meat."

"Ah, so you don't know about it, do you? Around here, we have a symbol of a coloured circle inside a square frame, which tells people if the goods have animal products in them or not. If its red, its got animal product in some form in it. Green means its a perfectly vegetarian food, exception being milk products."

Harry was fascinated with all these little details. It really distinguished Britain from India. Being locked up throughout his childhood, he oft dreamed about visiting new people and cultures, and learning about them. Guess he was living the dream, really.

Walking side by side, they soon approached a very busy looking place with all kinds of mouth watering smells and looks.

The Officer said, "We are near the famous Jama Masjid. This place is known for its finger licking non-vegitarian food. Have your pick."

It was an experience for Harry, in more ways than one. Even having lived with around 700 witches and wizards inside a castle, he had never truly understood the word _crowd_.

He sure did now.

The place was full; Not the kind which feels suffocating, but the kind which gives you the feeling of 'belonging to the crowd,' the one where you lose yourself in it.

Soon he found a place free and went there to place his order. He gave the money, and said to keep the change. _That_ earned him looks from the chef, the buyers, the fly buzzing around his ear, and the astronaut orbiting around in a satellite.

(He didn't know it, but a certain bushy haired witch suddenly felt a twitch above her left eye, leading her to murmur to herself, "What stupid thing have you done now, Harry")

Deciding it was just a cultural difference, he got his meal and began eating.

Boy was it good.

Very, very spicy, oily, and probably a lot more unhealthy, but it sure was delicious.

Hermione would chew him out later about eating unhealthy and unknown food, his safety, his health, and on and on, but he ordered a second plate, and actually _licked his fingers clean after he was done_.

They talked during lunch, as Officer Mohabir said, "Mr Black, what you did today is not something my best trained officers can do on their best day. What was the strategy that you used?"

"I knew I was outnumbered five-to-one, and I also knew, pardon my brashness, that the Non-magicals were utterly helpless in that situation. So I used _reducto_ curses to make sure that once they fall down they cannot get back up, without a Healer. It's hard to stand on one leg after all.

"And that's it really. They were some of Voldemort's worst..." Mohabir looked sharply at Harry, "... and they were on an officially unsanctioned mission, probably to curry favour with the Dark Lord.

"That reminds me, could you check me up for tracking charms? I really do not like knowing that people elsewhere know my location at all times."

"You have fought against these Death Eaters before?"

"More times than I care to count, yes."

Mohabir waved his wand a couple of times, then murmured some words while slashing the wand downwards.

Harry had the strangest feeling, like his chest had been wrapped by an invisible rope constricting him, and it had finally broken. He felt freer somehow.

"I assume that was the tracking charm you destroyed?"

"You assume correctly."

"What was the skill level of the charm used? I mean, was it some school boy who added the charm, or was it some wise crackpot old fool with excellent control over magic?"

Mohabir looked at me strangely, then said, "Actually, it was kind of both. One felt like it was made by a student in probably his fifth year. the other one took a lot of effort to remove. Whoever was trying to track you was serious in his effort."

"Hmm. Thank you so much Officer Mohabir... you've done a lot to give me the freedom I so desperately need. Please do tell me if I can ever return the favour."

"What would be your plans for tomorrow?"

"I'll visit the many historical places in Delhi, and then who knows?"

"Then it was a pleasure meeting with you Mr Black."

"No, no. You're the one who introduced me to the new love of my life, Indian non-veg food. So it was a pleasure meeting you as well, literally." He smirked.

Mohabir returned the smirk and said, "Well, I'll best be off then. Duty calls and all that rot."

*

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin holder, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Newly reinstated member of the ICW, sat in his chair, deep in thought.

Wards of the castle had of course alerted him to the fact that Harry had gone out of the Wards' boundaries a few times at the end of the academic year. He had chalked it up as innocent attempts of some sort of teenaged rebellion which he would grow out of.

He thus allowed him to experience a bit of freedom, it won't do after all to have him feel trapped inside the castle. His Godfather's loss had shaken him up a lot. He needed the release, and Albus was gracious enough to allow it.

It did help that he had a bunch of monitoring and tracking charms on young Harry connected with various silver instruments he kept around.

But then he didn't return from his little trip one day, and Dumbledore was instantly on alert. One of the things destroyed by Harty in his office was a silver coloured globe which tracked him down anywhere on earth. Dumbledore had meant to replace it, but just didn't have a spare minute in his day.

It seemed that everyone and their grandma always knew that he was right, and that the Voldemort was back. No one had ever believed the rag called Daily Prophet. Harry was the 'Chosen One' meant to save all their ungrateful sorry arses, and some even had the guts to demand, 'why had Harry not taken care of the Dark Lord already, that pretentious little shit.'

It wasn't as if said person could fire a single curse on the Death Eaters.

Dumbledore hated two kinds of people in his life, Hypocrites and Ostriches (he never did figure out the irony in the situation).

Again focusing his thoughts on Harry, the Headmaster started making a new device attached to his tracking charm. He would be too late in creating it, as by this time Mohabir had already taken care of said charm.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock as he felt the charm dissolve. Now was a time to be worried.

The Order; which consisted of Witches and Wizards who had volunteered to fight Death Eaters and save lives; would have to track down a runty rebellious teenager, and return him back to an abusive house where he would be tortured night and day.

At least, that was the average Order Member's opinion regarding the whole idea.

*

The next day found Harry making a list of places to visit in Delhi.

He first visited the Red Fort, easily one of the most famous monuments in Delhi. He admired the artwork on its walls, and he read about the Mughal empire, with all its rulers. He read about Akbar, one of the most progressive kings in that empire.

It was truly overwhelming. England had forever been ruled by its own kings. It was very interesting to learn about what the foreign leaders brought with them to the indigenous culture.

The art, music, language, spices, clothing style, and books were the main treasures which were exchanged between the communities. These type of radical changes in culture was never observed in Britain.

He visited the Jama Masjid, and paid his respects. He was never a religious person, but something about the tranquility in the place appealed to him.

The next place he visited was Humayun's Tomb. It was an architectural Marvel. The walls were covered in intricate carvings, every entrance was made to be enjoyed. The windows were beautiful, and built to allow cool air to pass through the whole structure, keeping it cool even on the hottest days.

Then he remembered the drafty old castle where he lived ten months a year, with its crude paintings, moving staircases, and a jokester Poltergiest. He smiled a bit at that, and a word escaped his lips, "Amateurs." Because truly, magic is wonderful and everything; but art has a Magic of its own; and not every Voldemort, Dumbledore, or Boy-Who-Lived can create art.

He returned to his room, intent on reading all the books he had found on the history of India. He had never considered reading something he enjoyed, but he did not have a chronic phobia of books that the Bastard Weasley had. Just goes to show that he should have chosen his friends more carefully. Oh well, no use crying over spent Galleons.

*

Two Officers had been appointed by Officer Mohabir to keep track of the mysterious Mr Black, and in case Death Eaters decided that trying to kill him was a good idea.

They had done everything by the book. Wore glamours, changing every five minutes. Maintain a distance at all times. Be calm and look like a visitor, not an investigator trying to do some spying. Done, done and done.

It was a pleasantly peaceful observation task, and they were just beginning to take down their Glamour, when their subject looked straight in their direction, smirked, and said "Amateurs." It was every Officer's nightmare. They had _never_ seen _any_ indication that they had been spotted. So they did what any Officer would do, and Portkeyed out of that place.

They arrived to be greeted by a sea of expectant faces. Everyone had heard about the mysterious Mr Black who had single–handedly taken down five Death Eaters. Such news travels faster than causality, especially in a government office.

"You're early by five minutes." Mohabir observed in a calm tone. "What happened?"

"We had done everything correctly. He spent the day visiting various monuments across Delhi. We had no indication that we had been compromised. But..." He trailed off, not wanting to admit a failure.

"But?" Prompted Mohabir. Rare was the wizard in the West, who did not have some kind of prejudice against Non-magicals. He wanted to know more about him.

"But," the other one continued, "when we were starting to wrap up our Glamours and preparing to get out, he looked right at us, gave us a little smile, and muttered 'amateurs.' No one else could have heard it, so he knew we had a listening charm on him."

"I think I remember looking in our direction through the windows. I thought then that he was simply enjoying the view..."

"Yeah, and I think I remember him tensing up just a little when we were close to him in Jama Masjid..."

"It's okay Officers, I know you did your best. I don't think any of our usual criminals would have spotted you. I guess he _is_ just that good. Do not be ashamed of getting beaten by betters, instead learn from them and _become_ better."

"Yes Chief!" They saluted in unison.


	6. Chapter 5

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 5**

The Magical section in Delhi was surprisingly located in the Chandni Chowk market, one of the busiest markets in North India. It was not a very big place; but it was the biggest Wizarding market Harry had ever seen.

Shops lined the road on both sides, with a constant murmur of people selling, buying, bargaining, yelling and otherwise just talking. He had become somewhat accustomed to the noise of the city, but he hadn't thought the Magical section would be this full.

He reasoned that, apparently, more people in total meant more Muggleborns in that place.

And the items on sale were really quite interesting. Devices to ward off the 'evil,' ornaments worn that apparently had the power to protect the wearer, a compass that always showed where your child was (which was a big hit with the mothers, according to the shopkeeper), idols of various gods and goddesses which all had a slight glow about them, and endless other small knick-knacks with a variety of functions.

He smiled briefly, thinking about Hermione. She would go absolutely crazy over how the objects worked. Though she was better than average in DADA, her real interest lied in research and experimentation.

What did catch his attention, however, was a camera on sale. The seller claimed that it was water-proof, self-repairing, had a internal transfiguring feature that permanently transfigured any material into a film. It was built for instant capturing, and didn't require any development.

It was a very versatile little thing, and the price was also reasonable. So he bought it, thinking of maybe bringing momentos of his various travels to Hogwarts when he went back, as Hermione would no doubt be very interested.

What he didn't know, however, was that he was again being followed, this time by Officers under invisibility cloaks.

He started capturing photographs of the marketplace.

He now understood the passion Colin Creevey had with photography. He decided that he would capture shots of all his _real friends and family_. No Weasleys would be in it though, at least none except the twins. He didn't know what to think of them yet. _Ronald_ hadn't written anything about them, it seemed that they were kept out of the loop of the whole conspiracy.

Shaking his head out of the morbid thoughts, Harry explored the various nooks and crannies of the market. Sometimes he asked questions, other times he bought something for his friends. A strange stuffed creature which he suspected looked like Luna's Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. A rare plant that he came to know wasn't found in England, that Neville would definitely find interesting. A couple of interesting books on Hexes and Curses that he bought to study himself; after all he wasn't lucky enough that Voldemort would drown in his bathtub, if he _ever_ bathed, that is. For Hermione he bought various books on theories of magic and its origins; some of which cost him an arm and a leg as they were _ancient_.

He had read a bit about how foreign invaders had burned whole libraries, but apparently the Magical section had been hidden in time and remained undamaged.

It seemed to him that just the information he had acquired yet was enough to justify this trip.

By mid-afternoon, he had decided to visit just a few other places and then Portkey somewhere else.

As he crossed over to the Non-magical side of the market, he started exploring a bit. After about an hour, he had come to realize that this was an 'everything for the right price' kind of market.

The Officers had been asked to only watch him on the Magical side, so they had long left him.

As he stumbled into a decidedly shady and shabby shop, he happened upon two dealers exchanging guns and arms. The Harry Potter Luck, as he called it in his head, struck again.

One of the goons fired a shot in his general direction, but he was long gone by then, not wanting to get entangled in any such mess.

Unfortunately (though it was a matter of perspective) the shot struck a loose circuit box, creating a short-circuit. The building wasn't made with safety in mind, so it was understandable when a box of firecrackers caught fire and fired in random directions, further increasing the fire and the chaos.

Those who escaped never called the fire department; they wouldn't want to be caught.

More than 70% died that day, and the stock was burned completely.

A few non-magical Officers, who had been assigned to keep watch over the meeting, were in complete and utter shock as they watched it unfold. They of course couldn't compromise their knowledge by interfering directly, but they did call for help when it looked like the fire would spread to the neighbouring shops.

After the fire was controlled, and the building investigated, it was a wonder that even some bodies could be identified. No cause of the fire could be conclusively identified.

The Officers gave the report that a mysterious man had entered just inside, barely for 10 seconds, and left, before everything went pear-shaped. The Officers said that they couldn't describe the mysterious person, but that he was indeed a 'he,' and that he was fairly average looking.

The news made the rounds in the Department, especially as one of the bodies was identified to be the remains of one Zakir Khan, a notorious criminal known to bring whole kilos of drugs by import and supplier of weapons to many groups in different parts of the country. He was ridiculously good in escaping the Police force, and had been the thorn in the Department's side for many years.

This provided a very good opportunity for them to round up the rest of the organisation quickly, before the news spread.

In India, the Magical and Non-magical governments weren't as separated as they were in England. So, news soon reached Mohabir about the whole incident. He immediately suspected Black, though he only made a token effort to investigate. Due to the fact that he hadn't used any spells at all after leaving the Magical section, he couldn't be traced to that shop.

Even the shop was clean of all magic, which surprised Faisal a lot. _So,_ he thought to himself, _you can do untraceable magic, Mr Black? Interesting, very interesting indeed._

He, of course, completely rejected the idea that Harry was just at a wrong place at the wrong time. There weren't coincidences of this magnitude, after all.

*

The Order of the Phoenix, or the ones left after the first war at least, were seated around the table in Number 12, Grimmauld Place's kitchen, discussing the most important task given to them, the strategies, scouting of the locations, _et cetra_.

They were discussing how to bring a 16 year old teenager back under control, of course. One would never accuse the Order of being efficient or having the right priorities. How propestrous!

Master Auror Mad-Eye was speaking, "The lad just needs a bit of time, I am sure he would come back to Hogwarts come September. We cannot just sit here wasting time while Voldemort gathers strength." While many shivered when they heard the name, no one commented on it. It was the fourth time this argument had broken out in as many days, and some were getting quite annoyed.

"Let us have a show of hands for the decision, then. And after the outcome is decided, we won't discuss it again. We do not have time to waste arguing with each other while Lucius Malfoy kills Muggles like pigs in a slaughterhouse," said Shacklebolt.

The graphic imagery managed to shock them all into getting very serious.

Dumbledore allowed the show of hands to happen, after all they had to be capable of leading themselves. He was getting very old, and he wasn't as good with magic as he was back in the times of Grindelwald. He didn't know when his sacrifice would be needed.

It was also nice knowing he had placed compulsions on more than half of the Order to support finding Harry. It was a decision which was absolutely necessary to make. He couldn't allow Harry to become very independent. No, he had to be sacrificed at the right time as well.

"All in favour of finding Harry!" Shack called out. 34 out of the 57 raised hands, and the subject changed to planning of this mission.

"His friends, at least the ones who were in the Ministry that night, all believe he should be at his Aunt's house. So that avenue of information is closed to us. I suggest we start asking around for a boy of his description in the Muggle world.

"He knows that world well enough, and it is one of the places we are entirely clueless about. Even the Aurors are only given very basic information about that world, just enough so that we know how to go around the Muggle cops in our investigations. He knows this, and would probably utilize it," said Tonks, surprising everyone with her thoughtfulness.

"I agree with Nymphadora," said Dumbledore, ignoring her glare with practised ease. "We must, however, also consider the possibility that he has escaped overseas. I think all passports prepared around his departure time should be analysed, which can be done easily as the Ministry keeps a record of them."

It was fortunate, for Harry at least, that he had done all the deals with Goblins, who despised wizards at best, and considered him a friend. As a result, none of his documents had been filed with the Ministry. So, officially, Leonardo Black did not exist.

It really was fortunate for Harry, and perhaps later, for the Wizarding World in general.


	7. Chapter 6

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 6**

Harry was sitting on his bed, sorting out the photos.

"Good... Good... Could have been better... Okay, I suppose..." He murmured as the pile slowly decreased.

As this was the first time he had indulged in photography, he was reluctant to part with any of his captured pictures. But, he still discarded one photo which just showed an awkward angle of the floor at the Magical Market. The rest he packed up, with the sole intention of leaving this city while his luck was still in his favour.

As he exited the Hotel, going back to the Magical section of the city for a portkey, two Officers entered the room for finding any clues on the mysterious man.

The whole room was rather unused looking, the only indication that a person had stayed here was just a photograph discarded in the dustbin.

The junior Officer had disregarded the photograph as unimportant, but his senior stayed his hand. When examined closely, one could see a trail of cleanliness in the dust covered floor of the market.

What was interesting, however, was that a set of foot-prints could be seen inside the trail, which led them to infer that it showed a man carrying some kind of cloth or cloak over him, and walking around the marketplace. That's when it clicked inside the senior's head.

"You know what Arvind? That trail is a photograph of me tailing him inside an invisibility cloak. But why would he leave this picture here? Unless... He knew we would come and check. He wanted me to know, Arvind..."

"And what was it he wanted you to know?" Arvind asked in a starstruck voice. It looked like he had found a new idol to aspire to be.

"That invisibility only hinders the sight; there are many other ways still of detecting a person. Maybe he heard me breathe, or he heard my shoes walking... The possibilities are endless. I guess it was a message for us, that we should never become overconfident in anything we do, and that we should always be alert."

The junior Officer nodded, heart filling with firm determination to do exactly that.

*

Harry entered a store which had pictures of various places and famous monuments around India pasted outside the shop, and was named _Easy travelling for Wizards and Witches._

"Hello there, young man! How can I help you today!" Said the storekeeper.

"Can you help me with a problem? I came to India for a vacation, but do not know where to go from here on. I know that it is a very broad question, but any recommendations would be welcome."

"You're young, so you won't have any problems roughing it a bit, would you?"

"Not at all, as long as no actual dangers are involved, I would in fact like to see the local communities everywhere I go. Language won't be a problem." He added the last part to answer the question before it was asked.

So the storekeeper asked the second one he had on his mind. "Is money a problem to you? I ask not as a slight to you, but to ensure my suggestions would work for you."

"Let's just say that I can live a luxurious life without earning a Paisa ever and leave it at that."

"Ah so you're rich then? Then I recommend you visit the Caves of Meghalaya. This is the best weather for exploring them, and as you're a wizard a lot of danger is instantly eliminated. You can create water, and fend off any wild animals with a fire instantly created by your wand."

"It sounds fascinating. How would I be able to go there? Is there another way than a portkey journey? I have a bad reaction to portkeys, and do not like using them in general."

"I am afraid that the fastest way is via portkey only. You can take an airplane to Shillong, that's the capital city of Meghalaya by the way, but I won't recommend it. The wizards and witches are actually banned from using an airplane due to the risk of them loosing their control of magic; but since the fine is very low, many travel anyway.

"You _could_ board a train to Shillong, but it will be a very long journey. If you have time, like 50-60 hours, only then should you choose that option."

Harry knew he only had two months to experience the whole of India, so reluctantly took the proffered portkey.

"Only twenty rupees," said the storekeeper when asked about the price.

Before it activated, he said to Harry, "We have stores in all capital cities in India, and we are authorised by the government to provide portkeys. So do visit them when you would like to continue your journey. S _hubhayatra_ " He said the final word as the portkey activated, and he was whisked off to Shillong.

As the shopkeeper had been nothing but courteous and helpful, Harry decided to follow his advice.

The world came back to focus sharply, and he again stumbled down due to the sudden change.

He started to stand up, and almost fell back down by the shocking change he saw.

Gone was the traffic and the loud noises of the city, replacing it was the peace and quiet of Shillong. The roads here weren't that well maintained, he could see many hand-drawn and bullock carts taking people from one place to another.

The concrete jungle was replaced by many trees growing everywhere; he could see one house which had one wall composed completely of trees.

He could understand exactly what was being said around him, this meant the devices were functioning as intended.

After the initial moment of disorientation, he started walking along the road, taking in the sights, the smells, and the feel of this new place.

The smell of fresh rain on grass and mud filled the air everywhere he went.The trees looked a lot greener, the plants a lot livelier.

It was amazing, and it was beautiful.

As he trudged along, he spotted a sign which said: "For a ride to the famous _Mawsmai caves_ , please inquire inside."

He went inside, and was greeted by an elderly woman.

"Hello young traveller! Do you want a ride to the famous caves in Cherapunji?"

"Yes," he agreed. "What do you charge for one passenger?"

"It will be 500 Rupees for one car ride, irrespective of the number of passengers. The cars will arrive to take you at around 6:30 AM. Where are you staying?"

 _That indeed is a good question_ , thought Harry. Sun was already going down here, and night would fall soon. He answered honestly, "I have got no idea. Where do you recommend I stay?"

She grinned happily, and said, "We have the facilities for boarding and lodging here. Would you like to stay the night here?"

How could he deny such a generous offer? He accepted of course.

"I would love it, thank you. Where can I get something to eat?"

"Dinner will be served in an hour. Get comfortable in your room till then."

And he did. It was a very simple room, with bare furnishings and a small attached bath, but it was comfortable and had a very _homey_ feeling. And he had lived in a cupboard for 11 years, it was a mansion compared to that.

Food was served within the hour, as promised.

The dishes included a variety of the local cuisine, which he appreciated. He was sure that he won't get to visit this place again, and wanted to experience it fully.

 _Doh-Neiiong_ was his favourite, hands down. The whole meal was delicious.

It seemed that this trip would make him a very heavy eater.

By the time _Pumaloi_ was served, he decided that Hogwarts would get a new menu, come September.

He slept at night comfortably, even the nightmares of Sirius seemed to reduce in number.

*

The next morning, he had no trouble getting up early, a lifetime of conditioning ensured that.

He sorted out the things in his bag, keeping the things he might need on the top of the pile.

He ate breakfast, packed a lot of said food to last him two days, and started the journey along with a young couple out to explore the world before settling down.

They made small talk, but Harry was captivated by the lush green hills and valleys they were passing by, and spent most of the time taking pictures.

So he was very excited as they reached their destination, and eagerly gave his share of the rent.

The _Guide to India_ had this to say about the caves:

 _Mawsmai caves are one of the few caves which can be explored without a guide; though it is advised to always be in the vicinity of others in case you're lost. The forest surrounding the caves is said to have a small tribal Magical community, though no one has ever found them. The legends say that they are peaceful people, so it is safe to go inside their territory._

Harry was surprised to see the last part, but went inside anyway.

He had a lot of fun travelling inside the caves, from one place to another. They were like the secret passages in Hogwarts, you didn't know where you would end up when you entered them.

He also found a lot of primitive markings on the walls, indicating that these caves had once housed their ancestors while they were still Hunter-Gatherers.

Harry took many pictures, of the paintings as well as the people.

It was night-time when he exited the caves, intent on camping in the forest.

He flicked his wand to create a magical fire, set up his magical tent, and unwrapped the food he had packed earlier.

He ate, listening and enjoying the soundful silence of the forest, with its critters and beasts making various kinds of noises. It was a symphony of nature, and Harry loved every minute of it.

As the tent was warded to repel any Non-magical beasts and insects, he was able to sleep with a very sound mind.

The forest continued its music that only Nature could understand; and the stars twinkled in the heavens, shining a faint grey light on the forest.

*

The next morning found Harry extinguishing the already dying embers of the campfire, having a healthy breakfast, and starting to walk in a random direction deeper into the forest. Harry was pretty sure he could take care of himself should a beast attack him, and wanted to explore this forest further.

He would be lying if he thought that he didn't want to interact with the rumoured Magical community.

On and on he went deeper into the forest, as the trees increased in number and the sounds grew louder...

" _Mai!_ " Came a loud cry from somewhere to his left, and he changed the direction without a thought.

He found a small boy running from a fully grown Himalayan Black Bear. He was fast, but the bear was faster.

Harry instantly created a protego shield between them, but had to really exert himself to keep the shield up when the bear attacked it with full force. The bear seemed hardly fased with this new interruption, and began banging at it viciously.

Sweat was pouring down his face, but he held on. The boy had realised that he was not in immediate danger and was coming towards Harry.

Finally the shield broke, and Harry let it happen. He tried a variety of spells to incapacitate the beast, but they were made with a human in mind and lacked the power to stop a rampaging bear. Ropes were torn apart, petrification didn't really last but ended up enraging it further, and _stupefy_ only caused a moment of dizziness.

Finally Harry started using the more lethal curses he knew. He didn't want to hurt the bear, but he felt he had no choice.

But before the bear could truly be hurt, a bunch of darts suddenly flew towards it, all of them contacting the vulnerable skin. They appeared to come from the forest behind him, but he couldn't care any lesser about it. He was just thankful that help had arrived before he had to do something regrettable.

The bear slowed down, then fell asleep right in front of Harry, breathing slowly and deeply.

Catching his breath, he turned around to thank his helper, but found himself being stared by what looked like a group of young men dressed in various outfits.

One of them was elder than the others and obviously the leader, and Harry got near him, starting to thank him.

"Thank you for helping me take down the bear. Who are you people? Do you live here?"

"Ah you speak our tongue, youngling. Very few do outside our small community. And we should be the ones thanking you. The children in our society have a very high standing, they represent our future hope and opportunity for growth. You saved a child of our heritage, and we would like to reward you. What do you seek?"

Harry thought for a moment, then asked a very obvious question.

"Do you know of Magic?"

"We do not know any of this _magic_ you speak of, but we know of the energy which you used to try to stop the bear. The same energy which has kept us a secret from the world. We know of it, and we have our own ways of using it, though your way was very different. We have never used a stick to use it, it flows from our hearts down through the hands directly."

 _Wandless, wordless Magic,_ thought Harry excitedly, _here I come_.

"Then as a reward, I would like to seek your hospitality for one day and one night. Know this, I mean you and your people no harm, and I shall only fight if someone attacks me first."

Though some discussions did occur; his proposal was accepted unanimously as the Elder One said, "Welcome to the _Jhanghala_ community."

#

 ** _AN_** : Okay guys, here's the inevitable.

I need more ideas about where to take Harry from here on. As you may observe, I have deviated quite far from Make A Wish, though the idea is essentially the same.

So I need ideas about more places where Harry can have more adventures, and keep killing bad guys accidentally.

Only one constraint is applicable, the places are to be in India.

I am not sure that Harry would spend the entire summer in India, but that is the idea I have at the moment.

 _Shubhamastu!!_


	8. Chapter 7

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 7**

Harry followed the Chief through the thick undergrowth, and was never more thankful for the magically enhanced trekking gear he had worn that day. He would have been swamped with the mosquitoes and other insects buzzing around them if he hadn't.

He followed through what appeared to be a random zigzag path through the woods, but he knew he wasn't the expert here, and wisely followed without hesitation.

At least, he did until he reached a deep valley with very steep slopes where walking would be impossible. He couldn't see more than a few metres into the depth, even in the morning light. A tiny speck of a river was flowing within; he couldn't see it, but the sunshine was reflected to his eyes from it. He was shocked when the Chief jumped right down, others following him closely behind.

Harry considered his options.

Stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a portkey back to his room which would instantly vanish any chance he had of learning about the tribe.

Follow them to what looked like certain death, magic or not.

He followed them, of course. He was chosen by the Sword of Gryffindor for a reason.

He had rationalised that perhaps it was an illusion. He had even thought it was some kind of hidden portal used to transport them elsewhere. The most extreme thought he had was that they were cannibals waiting for him at the bottom.

He still wasn't prepared for what happened.

The water _rose._ He didn't know where it came from, but the water started filling the valley.

When he hit the water, light was already low enough that he couldn't make out any distinctive thing around him.

He was completely submerged, before he even had a chance to cast a _bubble-head_ charm.

What was new to him, however, was that the water seemed to _test_ him somehow. It gauged his entire life in a matter of seconds, and if Harry's theory was correct, had found him acceptable. So he suddenly started moving towards the depths of the stream; the light was slowly waning, the dark claiming its rightful place.

And the next thing he knew, he found himself sprawled on the floor, with _many_ pairs of eyes focused solely on him. Even as he sat up, more people were come out of their stone houses and gathering around him.

"Umm, hi?" He questioned tentatively.

"Hello Mr Black, it seems you have as noble intentions for visiting us as you said," the Chief confirmed for the others.

Harry waited while his brain supplied him the recent memories.

"So, just for my curiosity mind you, what would have happened if I wanted to harm any of you?" he asked, not sure where to proceed after this.

The Chief grinned, and it was full of sharpness and contained no humour, and said, "The Holy Water would have transformed you into some aquatic plant for a hundred years. It is known to have the power to teach anybody an amount of humbleness as well. After all, one would be hard-pressed to retain any of his ego after remaining a non-important entity for so long." The damned grin hadn't left his face.

Harry, not for the first time, was indirectly chastised for his reckless behaviour. Suddenly the trip wasn't quite as innocent as before.

"If you wouldn't mind introducing me to your people? I become very nervous if so many people stare at me," Harry said, and knew it was a partial lie. He was _uncomfortable_ with people staring at him, but that didn't bother him after five years of Hogwarts. No, he just needed a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that he could have very well been killed here, nevermind Voldemort.

And just like that, it became clear to him why they had not been discovered before. _Wonder how many were still trapped in their hundred year sentences_ , he thought.

Soon, all the important people had been introduced to the mysterious Mr Black, and they were directed towards the food mess.

The food was very bland here, no salt or spices for flavour. It was just the herbs and fruits found nearby boiled in water or cooked directly above flames.

But Harry ate it all the same. He wasn't about to offend these people in their territory.

With his hunger sated, Harry asked about the magic of the people.

While many sat around him, it was an old person who answered, "For as long as we remember, our ways of _magic_ , as you call it, have been taught to the children by their father and mother. It has been a long time since some outsider has attempted to reach this sanctuary, a very long time indeed. Ah, I remember, you wanted to learn the magic we use, correct?"

At Harry's nod, which was just a tad reluctant, he continued, "Then please follow me. I will try to help you understand."

Voldemort may be known to be many things, but incompetent wasn't one of them. As such, he kept careful track of his Death Eaters; whom they met, where they ate, who seemed a little bit reluctant in torturing the worthless Muggles in the last raid; he knew about it all.

So, he was understandably baffled when a team of his low-level grunts, who had gone to _collect_ Harry Potter, vanished without a trace. While he knew that the chances of them being successful was slim, he wanted the chance to torture them for their stupidity.

But no one knew their whereabouts; not the Ministry, as his spies had reported; not the Order, as per the one obvious and two secret spies both; not even St Mungo's had any of them as their patients.

It seemed that they had vanished into thin air. _Which_ , he thought, _was more than normal for an average wizard. I still have some remnants of my Muggle childhood, it seems..._

But he wasn't really worried. A little known fact was that the Dark Mark was a very advanced type of tracker as well as a means for him to summon others. So he could track any _alive_ Death Eaters anywhere on earth. It was taken from a few ancient tomes from ancient Egypt, and required the person receiving the mark to accept it willingly, without any mind control or such being used.

" _mawqie alraqiq_ ," he whispered the spell, because this couldn't be done wordlessly. It required the exact tone, the precise accent to work.

And it worked instantly, as it should.

India.

Precisely, the _Kala Pani_ prison located near the coast of Goa, where all convicted Wizards were sent.

 _What?_ was the only thought in his mind, well and truly blindsided by this new development.

 _There is definitely an interesting story behind this,_ he thought, _and all the players of this tale are in India. Hmm. Lucius has failed very badly in his task to bring me the prophecy. This should be a nice punishment, making him battle against bureaucracy and paperwork. And having to show those inferior wizards some respect was just the icing on the cake._

"Wormtail, summon Lucius. It is time he shows some penance for his failure."

"Yes my lord," said Wormtail, grateful for the opportunity to see another Death Eater suffer.

"This meeting is scheduled to discuss the leads we have about the probable location of young Harry. Let's start with you Nymphadora," Dumbledore said by way of a greeting. No small talk, not even a good evening. This, more than anything, told everyone how important the goal was.

Ignoring the name, Tonks spoke, "We have checked and rechecked every passport issued by the Ministry. In doing so, we have unearthed a different issue: the Muggleborns are leaving Britain by the masses, going to France, Germany, and many even moved across the pond to the Americas. All have used made up names so that they aren't tracked down by the Death Eaters.

"Because there are so _many_ such cases, it is virtually impossible for us to ascertain whether Harry has moved abroad. We have, of course, not found any passport registered for Harry Potter, but that is hardly conclusive."

"Arthur?"

"We have collaborated with the Muggle government, and they have started making discreet inquiries in hospitals, hotels and such. But London itself is big, not to mention the whole of Britain, so the inquiries have a very low chance of actually succeeding."

"Molly?"

"I have questioned Ronald in every possible way, but he simply doesn't know any other place Harry could go."

"Remus?"

"I have also been in contact with Hermione, but she seemed suspicious in the last letter so I have stopped questioning her about Harry."

"Mundungus?"

"Nobody has any idea about him among the darker elements. It is good though, inn'it?"

"I agree, it would be a disaster if a dark person got his hands on Harry. I think that covers all angles that we have thought of. Any new ideas?"

Mad-Eye spoke up, "What if we put 'Missing' posters with pictures of the boy, and post it around London? Even if they do not yield any results, they can seriously hinder his movement, giving him more opportunities to slip up. But I still say that we shouldn't concentrate our efforts on him."

"Excellent idea Alastor, and it will be implemented post haste," said the Headmaster, completely ignoring the last part. "Well, if that's all?"

Receiving many subdued nods in return, he said, "I must impress upon you, again, how imperative it is that Harry be returned to his home safely, all our futures may well depend on it."

#

 ** _AN_** : Thank you for so many ideas and suggestions. I have taken each of them in consideration and will plan accordingly. Meanwhile, do share any more ideas you have and your thoughts on the story.

 _Thanks!_

PS: Woohoo! 100 favs! You're the best! Keep them flowing!


	9. Interlude

**Interlude**

Draco Malfoy, of the Prestigious House of Malfoy, was grinning like Tom the cat who had finally eaten Jerry the mouse. The grin was impossibly wide, and if you asked one Pansy Parkinson if he ever grinned that much, she would vehemently deny any such accusation and implore you to wait an hour while the Polyjuice Potion wore off.

But Draco allowed himself this brief bout of emotion. His wonderful and cunning plane had worked. Weasley and Potter were friends no longer.

It was a brilliant, beautiful plan. He wasn't modest enough to think any differently. It was the epitome of Slytherin; even Salazar would have been proud.

It had all started on the day he had returned home after the fourth year, after his Lord had done the impossible and returned from the dead. His Father was out for some Death Eater fun, and he had been left to his own devices. It was only a coincidence, that he had spotted a House Elf cleaning his room as he entered it, that had him thinking about the privacy of his room.

Tinkly, the name of the Elf that had served him since birth, made to Disapparate quickly, lest she be seen and punished, but he held up a hand to stop her. He wanted some answers about these lowly creatures, and he wouldn't wait for the slave to show up after the work was done.

"Tipsy, I will ask some questions about your lowly race, and I want your answers to them to be as complete and truthful as you know or speculate. No half-truths, no omissions, just the complete and comprehensive truth."

He waited a few seconds for the Elf magic to recognize the order for what it was, and to carry it out on pain of her death.

"Can you go anywhere you want? Can you pop over to the Ministry? Any warded house? Azkaban?"

Now, it may seem very surprising for him to ask this, but what he wanted to ask was if the Elf could go to anyone's house for spying and such. And the more he framed the questions like _that_ the more was the chance that the Elf could answer or imply something in a way that the plan would go wrong. Who knows how their kind's Magic worked?

Best to make her think that they were just questions for his idle curiosity. No pesky things like morals getting in his way.

"Wes can go any place wes want, but the elfs's permission is to be asked to go there."

Huh?

"Explain it again, lowly creature, but use different words," Draco groused, not in a very good mood after Harry Potter had won the Tournament.

"Tipsy can go where she wanting to go, but she asks the elf of a place before Tipsy can enter there," Tipsy squeaked timidly, already dreading the punishment to be suffered after this.

Draco took a few minutes to decipher what was said, then asked, "So you need the permission from the elves living in a house in order to enter it? And you can go anywhere so long as there are no elves living there?" I _f that was true, it would be the best thing to ever happen to me._ _And I won't have to ask any of the other questions_ , Draco thought.

But the elf shook her head. "No young master, we can only go to houses where Wizards and Witches be living."

Draco paused, but just shrugged off the matter as unimportant. "So, if I ask you to spy on a Weasley for some days inside his house, will you be able to do it?"

Tipsy was trying very hard to say no, but her Magic forced her to nod her head and answer a timid "Yes."

And that conversation provided the seed, which later bloomed into his master plan.

He spent more than a week thinking over it, and finally produced a list of commands he would give the Elf. This was delicate matter, and couldn't be allowed to go wrong. He read many tomes and books in his family library, perused the legalese and the words used in the various Oaths and Vows. He even had _another_ elf read the orders, and asked about how he would defy them if he could.

And people say being evil is easy.

But he pushed and prodded the words on the parchment till he couldn't bear to look at it any more, and finally gave them to the elf, to be followed to the letter.

She had begged and pleaded, offered to ignite her hands or cut off her legs, but Draco was unrelenting. She had to acquiesce in the end.

She spent the day following days spying on the Weasleys, and Ronald in particular, and reporting everything at night.

As you can imagine, Draco had been bored within a week. One can listen about someone's mundane day only so many time before going mad. But Draco was a Slytherin for a reason.

He had thought up the brilliant idea about writing the diary from Ron's point of view in the middle of his Potion's essay, and immediately sent another elf to purchase a diary from a second hand bookshop in Diagon. It had to look authentic, or the ploy would fail before it ever started.

The problem of the proper handwriting had been solved by a Dicta-Quill. Weasley's assignments from the past year had provided the sample needed for the Quill to work, and work it did.

Now the only thing left to do was continue. Continue spying and writing.

Draco knew he was in dangerous waters as is, so refrained from ordering the Elf to spy on the Order of the Flying Chickens, lest he be found and all this work be lost.

And it had flown like a Nimbus after that.

The diary had been written throughout his fifth year, and was finished a month before the owls. Now he was to just wait for the perfect opportunity to slip this diary in the hands of Potter. And watch the chaos ensue from a distance. He had wanted very badly, then, to laugh maniacally and rub his hands in anticipation, but had refrained from doing so. The proverb about the counting of chickens before hatching of the eggs had even made its way to the Magical world, and Draco was nothing if not careful regarding this.

The opportunity arose after the debacle of the Ministry, when most of his friends were injured and recovering. Less chance of being found out.

He called Tipsy to his room, asking her to leave this on Ron's bed in Gryffindor, and she carried it out perfectly. She was just relieved that this entire task was over and she wouldn't have to spy on the Weasley anymore.

That had been the past. Draco couldn't be sure that his plan had worked without some solid proof; which had finally arrived in the form of his Father sporting a pleased and worried look, bringing the news of Potter's runaway status. He wasn't sure how Father managed that particular expression, but his mind soon realized what this meant.

His plan had worked.

His plan had worked so splendidly that Potter had left Dumbledore's group altogether.

He had only been able to contain his grin till he reached his room. This was just too good to be true.

Even as he slept, the grin didn't leave his face throughout the night.

Nobody noticed or cared about the Elf Tinkly who cried herself to sleep, who had also heard the news from her Master.

#

 _ **AN**_ : As always, review about your thoughts on the story, whatever they may be.

I am always in need of more ideas about where to dump Harry, what whacky methods he uses to dispatch the Death Munchers hilariously, and such, so do share any such ideas!


	10. Chapter 8

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 8**

"I can honestly say that it was a pleasure to learn from you. I will forever remember and cherish the time spent among your people, and it was undeniably very kind of you to trust me with your pictures. Be sure that no one will know of you except my closest friends," Harry said by way of a farewell, and activated his portkey back to the room in the lodge.

The elders had been reluctant at first, not wanting the knowledge to leave the village. But then one of them, the grandfather of the boy he had saved, started explaining the basics, and another had taken it up when he stopped, and soon Harry was learning their unique variety of magic. By the time the day had ended and he sat on his bed in the tent, he was already able to disillusion himself wandlessly; though they called it _adrishta_ , a peculiar word.

He shook off the reminiscence, and focused on his surroundings. Bitter experience had taught him to be very alert and paranoid when travelling by Portkey.

He found no immediate danger, and sat on the bed. He began meditating, as had been instructed to him.

He sat in the classic cross-legged position, feet tucked under the opposite leg, placed both palms on the knees, and started concentrating and focusing on certain emotions and expressions.

 _Peace... Quiet... Silence_...

He thought _of_ them, thought _about_ them, and thought _with_ them. He searched within himself for the peace, and let his senses extend for the blissful silence.

But something just didn't seem to connect.

So he tried a different track.

 _Fire... Warmth... Sunshi_ _ne... Comfort..._

He kept this one up for longer moments, but this didn't seem to work either. He was getting quite frustrated now, which was more of an impediment than one might think.

But he was nothing if not determined. After all, the Fates themselves had decreed that one of them would die by the hands of the other, and Voldemort wouldn't be killed by Tickling Hexes.

He searched within himself, looking for that one emotion, which was at the core of his being. He recalled the weeks he had been starved by his 'loving' family. He saw through his own eyes, and felt the desperation, when the dragon was breathing fire over his head, the feeling of being trapped. Trapped in the miniscule cupboard. Trapped under the stupid Tournament. Ensnared in the bloody Prophecy.

And he had the answer instantly. Or so he thought. Unknown to him, it had already been three hours since he had sat for meditation.

 _Freedom... Independence... The Sky... Flying... Broom... Quidditch..._ _Magic..._ It was like a dam had burst, allowing the feelings to flow like a river, a wave.

The meditation went on for a while longer.

It was five hours since he had arrived, that he called it a day and packed up all his belongings in his bag.

He knew that he couldn't spend too much time in one place, both for security reasons, as well as for the fact that he wanted to experience as much of India as he could before the trip ended.

Giving a final look around the room to verify he had packed everything, he closed the door and went back to the reception area.

Some light conversation with the Old lady, and he paid the bills and walked out the door, into a dusk quickly flowing into the night.

Entering a nearby _Easy travelling for Wizards and Witches_ , he came across a bald man sitting in a chair, feet on the table, watching some cricket match in a box-sized TV.

"What can I do for you Mister..." The shopkeeper droned, eyes still fixed on the match.

"Black, and I would like a portkey to Bangalore."

Nowthe shopkeeper _did_ look up, onto his obscured face and registering his flawless local accent, and nodded to himself. He opened an old drawer, pulled out a small curved dagger with intricate designs on it. The sheath was also flawlessly designed, and golden in shade.

"This is a one-use portkey, but it also is a very useful weapon. Something tells me you will have use of it in the near future. You can of course ask for a standard one, but I would prefer if you take this."

Harry considered it, shrugged, and paid the amount.

"Bangalore." He stated clearly, and was brisked off to the AC city of India.

The man nodded to no one, dragged back his chair, and sat back to watch the game. It seemed that Mullally had taken yet another wicket against Pakistan.

*

Harry arrived in the centre of a park, and promptly stumbled down yet again.

 _Sigh._ Using portkeys clearly didn't cure his problem, whatever it was.

He shrugged. It was just another thing making him Harry Potter. Nothing to do about it.

He took a taxi to a nearby hotel, and settled for the night.

*

Luna Lovegood was deliriously happy, Harry had taken all the right paths.

She had seen many possible outcomes, and people suffered in every one of them. It had been heart-wrenching to see her father die so many times, herself and her friends getting tortured, Harry losing to Tom Riddle...

And, it was exponentially worse because she knew every one of them was happening in some other world, some other reality. Her other versions had suffered so much, it was painful to imagine them happening to her friends. But that was the reason she was happy.

Draco, in his infinite stupidity (though she was very thankful for it), had arranged the circumstances in such a way that Harry had run away from his home. Every future had devolved into a desolate world only because Harry had been controlled and manipulated.

She was so happy that she didn't even feed the Snorkacks in her garden.

*

Lucius Malfoy had already reached the coast of India. These stupid Death Eaters and their half-brained schemes that always failed...

He had to negotiate two whole hours with the Goblins to get a decent amount of gold. As he was technically a fugitive, Goblins had been adamant about not giving him any gold whatsoever. As he was a _Malfoy_ , he knew that certainly won't do.

So, as a last resort, he had finally traded one tenth of his gold in exchange for the Gringotts swearing that they will never prohibit him from taking any more of his gold. They had unsurprisingly agreed, greedy bastards.

They had completely and utterly denied him access to a portkey directly to India. They were absolutely adamant on this, and refused even 2,000 Galleons. This was _highly_ irregular, and had rendered him helpless. He wouldn't go down to the level of asking his _other_ comrades to arrange a portkey for him. His reputation was already damaged, it couldn't bear another blow without falling apart entirely.

Though he did ask Lord Parkinson for a paid ride in one of his boats. He was his childhood _ally_ , and agreed wholeheartedly.

So it was that Lucius had spent more than five days on the magically enhanced boat, which was carrying two dragons and dozens of different animals that were used as ingredients in various rituals and potions. He was feeling very sick, and was about ready to deboard the boat and never see it again.

As he lifted his trunk and made to walk down the ramp, the captain, who was forseeing the transfer of two dozen Cornish Pixies, abruptly stopped him.

"Sir, you wanted to travel to India, yes?"

"Yes, now please step aside. Your payment has already been made to your employer." Lucius was in a hurry.

"You misunderstand. This is not India. We still have four days to reach there. Please step back into your accommodation so that you do not occupy this ramp for longer."

Lucius smiled, thanked the captain, went back to his room, and vomited all over his bed.

Thank Merlin for the Scourgify charm.

He locked the door, silenced and warded the room, and promptly screamed. He cursed Voldemort for sending him here, he cursed the foolish Death Eaters for getting captured in _India_ of all places, he even cursed the sea for being very turbulent (it wasn't).

So it was that he again settled down for another 4 days. He had never thought he would be desperate to visit India, but he sure as hell was at the moment.

*

Tinkly the elf, who her master always called Tipsy, had run out of tears, but her resolve was stronger than a Dragon's claws. She knew that with all the restrictions on her, she was powerless to do anything to help the Boy-Who-Lived, but she knew one other elf who could help her.

Who had been released from her master's clutches.

Who was a friend of Harry Potter.

Tinkly had to contact and hint Dobby somehow. She could think of only this way to help Harry Potter.

#

 _ **AN**_ : Relatively short chapter, because it had been a long time since I had updated it, and I really wanted to keep updating it, lest I lose the momentum and the muse...

Anyway, about the Omake/Interlude:

1\. I am humbled and quite frenkly stunned that so many went out of their way to respond.

2\. In the Omake's idea (henceforth the "2nd idea"), Draco has been following Ron, albeit by proxy, throughout a _**year**_. So, if Ron had in fact betrayed Harry in any way, Draco would have known of it.

So, those who are suggesting I use both, I tried, but things don't seem to match.

3\. Many are of course correct in saying Draco can/will never be as clever as shown here, and you're absolutely right. But I like to play with smarter characters. So, although the baseline Death Eater will still be very dumb, certain key characters are recieving a boost in their intelintelligence. Harry, Draco, Tom are among them, about Bellatrix I haven't decided yet.

4\. All those who absolutely hate Ron... I can feel why. Believe me, I really can. **But** , when I read the books again, I realised he really wasn't all that bad, and my perception had changed due to reading so many fics. Maybe your thinking has gone the other way as well, it's a worthwhile thought.

5\. As you can probably infer from the above, yes, the 2nd idea is officially inducted into my story.

6\. A couple suggested I use Ron to basically say all the mistakes he made, while none of them were in the diary. It _could_ work, but I would have to invest time into the diary, and I frankly enjoy playing with Harry more. So I am not saying "No," per se, but it is highly unlikely.

Now to answer certain specific issues I believe readers are unaware of:–

1\. **Why Harry trusts a random diary after what happened in 2nd year?**

Harry is an emotionally shunted and isolated child and young man. Whenever he has something good happened to him, there is always a selfish reason behind it. He is pretty sure that Hermione is his friend only in obligation to him saving her life, and any day she would decide that leaving him was for the better.

So, even though he saved Ron's sister's life, he was always a little wary because he didn't really know his motive.

After enduring the emotional trauma of Sirius' death, and having the weight of the prophecy on his untrained shoulders, he probably was very emotionally strung up, and this just provided an easy outlet and a welcome diversion, which he seized immediately.

2\. **Why have I not updated recently?**

Because the muse left me, and has refused to return till now.

#

Now, since this is just a filler chapter, I have also uploded another Omake, and this one is definitely an Omake ONLY.


	11. Omake

Omake

Entering a nearby _Easy travelling for Wizards and Witches_ , Harry came across a bald man sitting in a chair, feet on the table, watching some cricket match in a box-sized TV.

When he noticed his entrance, he asked in a disinterested tone, "And what can I do for you Mr..."

"Black. And I need a portkey to somewhere..." was as far as Harry got before being interrupted by him wildly waving his hands and making hushing motions. "What?" He asked irritably.

"Are you one of those?" He asked, and Harry was liking him far less every moment. "Yes. Now can you provide a port..." "Shushh! Not here. Follow me."

Annoyed beyond belief, Harry went along with him deeper into the store building.

"Now, you can speak freely."

"What the hell was all that about?"

"Well, that is... You see..."

"Just spit it out man!" Harry's anger was restrained by a very thin cloth, but he was willing to give this strange man a chance.

"Look, people of your type aren't exactly well liked here. Your kind has been hunted by a very brutal group of assassins. So, even if there is a wiff of someone with mystic powers here, my life could be in jeopardy.

"Now, what did you say about your destination?"

Now, Harry was well and truly alert, this place had some serious issues. No wonder the Jhanghala people had isolated themselves.

"No, please tell me more. Who are these people who attack us? Why do they attack us? When did it all start?"

"Okay, okay I'll answer your questions. But the first sign of trouble and you're out by portkey. Agreed?"

"Yes." He agreed with his assessment, but he was certain that whatever the problem was, he couldn't leave without trying to solve it. But the other man didn't need to know that.

"It all started many years ago. At that time kings still roamed this part of earth. As it so happened, this place had a knack for producing evil wizards. Not with great power or a lot of intelligence, but evil nonetheless.

"The kings had had enough of petty wizards trying to steal the wealth, his wife and children, and keeping the Non-magical people from openly rioting. They passed many laws that restrained your people a lot. One such law was that any who wanted to live independently had to swear on their life and magic to never harm the kingdom in any way.

"With a wording that vague, Wizards didn't want to give their life for a wrong word in their Oath. So it caused a rebellion. It was peaceful for many years, but you know what happens in battles and wars. The _Abhiyuthaan_ , as the rebellion was called, had a leader who had a very young daughter. Yes, she was killed in a raid by the King's soldiers when she was at her grandmother's house.

"From there the rebellion took a very dark turn. People were mind controlled, tortured, and killed in gruesome ways. The Kingdoms didn't take this lightly. Mass execution orders were sent to soldiers. Entire families were stabbed to death.

"As they were more in number, the Non-magicals undoubtedly won. But they had seen war, and didn't want it to happen anytime soon. So the Kings joined and formed a secret force which silently eliminated any Magical children from their community. The original trained their progeny, and so the secret group, who call themselves _Madhmayan_ , still train and eliminate any Magicals in the area."

There was complete and utter silence in the room. Harry was fascinated and horrified. This was so much like the Death Eaters, and yet it wasn't. There was no right or wrong. Nobody was correct. They killed Magicals to save themselves. Magicals killed them in turn in self defence.

It made no sense. He couldn't really decide who was right and who wasn't. But he had a few questions, and wasn't afraid of the answers enough to not ask them.

"How do you know this story?"

The owner had a very sad smile, the kind that had seen more than it ought to.

"I am very sorry, Mr Black, but as it is too personal, I refuse to answer the question. But I am still okay with more questions."

"Why wasn't I attacked?" was his next inquiry.

"Did you use any magic in the confines of this city? They cannot detect magical travel, but they can detect any type of active magic in the city. Well, did you?"

"No... So you're essentially saying that I was incredibly lucky?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes. Well, now that you know about them, can you favour me with a quick departure so that I can get back to my monotonously happy life?"

"Umm, nope. Sorry. Now, what can you tell me about this Mad-man group?"

"It's _Madhmayan_. And no more words shall slip by my lips about them until you swear an Oath on your life and magic that you'll not reveal your informant under any circumstances or duress of any kind, nor will you supply it willingly to anyone, until you have my uninfluenced consent. This is a necessity for the health of me and my family."

Harry knew that Oaths were very powerful, and could even cause his death if he failed to follow it one way or another. But it was some serious business here.

He swore the Oath verbatim.

#

 _ **AN**_ :

This won't be "canon," because it was quite a bit more dark than what I wanted.

Also, Harry has to spend far too much time in one place. So... Yeah.


	12. Chapter 9

**Harry's trip to India**

 **Chapter 9**

Harry was on his merry way walking through the busy crowds of SP road market. Electronic shops crowded both sides of the road, with fans and heaters jutting out of the small shops. Harry was intrigued by many of the things being sold, but knew that they would break apart around him.

What inspired him to visit one of the shops was that it was empty. Customers were screaming and shouting on both sides of it, but the shop itself was devoid of life.

Moving closer he observed an old sign above the shop, which proclaimed "Magical Technologies," that only added to Harry's curiosity.

"How can I help you?" An old man sitting in front of an ancient desk inquired. Harry hesitated, then asked, "are you familiar with Magic?"

"Indeed I am." He rasped with a smile. "What is it that you seek young Wizard?"

"I–What do you have?"

"New to electronics, I take it?" At Harry's nod he continued, "Cellular Phones are the biggest hits in your generation. How would you like to test one out?"

Again nodding, the old man ( _most probably Wizard_ , Harry thought) started demonstrating how to do the basic things in a flip-phone. It took ten minutes before Harry understood how to use the keypad.

Soon he was controlling the pixellated snake through the pixellated maze. Wanting to find out more about the ancient wizard he inquired, "How long have you been making these _things_ in this shop?"

"They're called electronics, and about 20 years or so."

"Any kids?"

He glanced to the door. "A daughter. The light of my life. After completing her education, I mentored her in the craft of making Magic powered Electronics. Then she left on a tour of India to find more wizards like us and learn from them. We talk occasionally, but..." He trailed off.

"If I find her I'll say hi." Harry offered to soothe the old man's pain. He smiled in Harry's direction, and said, "If you do meet her, tell her you met Sagar Tiwari in Bangalore. She is quite unhelpful in general, but would probably help you if she knows I sent you. Her name is Radhika Tiwari."

Harry nodded, paid for the phone, and left the shop.

As he started walking back to his hotel, he sensed someone following him. Immediately his wand started moving in the required swishes for the Disillusionment charm. He had learnt to make himself invisible while meditating, but he still had a long way to go before he could do it in combat.

He turned sharply into a side street and cast the charm. His stalker entered behind him, and was momentarily surprised to find the alley empty. He looked around, and then pulled out his wand. Harry's _stupefy_ didn't leave the other wizard any chance to cast a spell.\

* * *

"Who sent you?" Harry asked, in as menacing a voice as he could manage.

The captive stuttered something incomprehensible when he noticed that he had forgotten to remove the gag. Cursing himself, he exclaimed, "Speak!"

"I removed the memory from my mind before coming after you."

Harry squinted hard at the defenseless wizard bound in ropes, and considered.

"What was your mission?"

He stayed silent. Harry fired a _reducto_ close to his ear.

"Hmm, seems as if I missed. Won't happen again, I assure you," Harry whispered dangerously.

"K–kidnap you," He stuttered.

"Where were you going to drop me?"

"Three blocks from here, near a post box."

" _Stupefy_. Stupid wizards… Why can't I take a bloody vacation?"

Harry considered the situation for a moment. Did he really want to involve himself in another mess? His fighting skills were next to nothing, his magic wasn't all that powerful, he didn't even have any sort of a backup. Getting caught would mean returning to Dumbledore's UK, and that was the last thing he wanted.

On the other hand, what if he obliviated the thug and let him go? He didn't have any experience with the spell, but how hard could it be? He would be out of Bangalore by tomorrow anyway.

Recalling Lockhart from memory, he waved his wand and cast the spell. Dropping him of at the gate of a hospital, he blended back in the crowd and returned to his room.

With a packed bag and shiny new cell-phones, which he had bought for each of his friends, Harry went into another shop called _Easy traveling for Wizards and Witches_. The guy inside was reading a book when he entered.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"Writing conversations with random shopkeepers is hard, you know that?"

"What?" asked the random shopkeeper, completely nonplussed.

"Never you mind that. I need a portkey to a different city, any thing works."

"D—" "Not Delhi however."

 _It was nice messing around with these shopkeepers_ , Harry thought.

The shopkeeper just wanted him out of his shop at that point.

"Here take this. It is scheduled to go in only a moment."

"Thank y–" Harry was whisked off before he could thank the shopkeeper, who breathed a sigh of relief. There were usual customers, who he served with utmost courtesy. There were assholes, who he sent to various water-bodies by tweaking the portkey spell. Then there were some wizards who he simply wanted away from his shop. It was a decent trade-off, a portkey for his sanity, all things considered.

* * *

A wizard, who was too bad-ass to reveal his name in a measly cut-scene, observed the thug he had sent after Mr Black. His healers had told him that the memory loss was quite severe, and they were just surprised he remembered how to breathe.

So that was how Mr Black wanted to play. Interesting.

He swept up his glasses from a nearby chair, and Apparated back to his base.

Twirling his mustache, he walked from the gate to his observation room. Because only morons allowed Apparition into their bases to _anyone_. He gave his password to the Magic protecting his sanctuary, and sighed in his chair sitting in front of an ancient Pensieve. It would've been better if he could speak Parseltongue, but he couldn't have everything.

So he sat and contemplated the mysterious figure who had disrupted his deal in Delhi. He could appreciate a worthy puzzle any day, and this man had question marks all over his body. His research in UK yielded some answers, but opened many more questions.

There _was_ a Wizarding family by the name of Black, but the last male member of said family had died only a few months back. Sirius Black _could have_ faked his own death, he mused, but his character didn't match that of a cunning man.

Mr Black had clearly adopted that name to throw people off his trail, and it might have worked with anyone else, but he was nothing if not determined. He had researched further, and boy had he discovered a treasure trove of information. Sirius Black had been an escaped fugitive who had allegedly caused their local Dark Lord to attack a family. Miraculously, one wizard by the name of Harry James Potter had survived a Killing Curse from the feared Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord hadn't been seen since.

The more he read, the more fascinated he became. The fact which particularly intrigued him, was that Harry Potter had went missing the day Mr Black had arrived in India. He didn't believe in coincidences. But Potter was still a child and had just passed their middle school exams. How could he do such powerful spells as _Obliviate_?

The thought that he was wasting his time on Harry Potter did cross his mind, but something told him he was quite close to the truth. He wouldn't confront Black directly until he had all the cards, but he _could_ test him in the meantime. He was sure Mr Black would appreciate his effort.

It didn't hurt one bit that the tracking spell, which he had spelled into the Dagger back in Meghalaya, was still active.

* * *

"Tinkly wants to speak to Dobby! She wants Dobby NOW!"

The other elves quickly shifted to make a path between Tinkly and Dobby in the Kitchen.

"What can Dobby do for Tinkly?"

Tinkly held his hand, and transported them to the Room of Requirement. "Tinkly wants help from Dobby. But Tinkly can't tell Dobby why."

Dobby knew her, they had suffered at the hands of her Family together.

"Dobby will not harm Harry Potter or Harry Potter's friends. Dobby will help Tinkly for anything else."

Tinkly started crying. "Tinkly be thanking Dobby. Here is what Dobby must do."

"How many more days will it take captain?" Malfoy asked, really getting quite tired of the constant sea-sickness.

"Not many," the captain assured him, "just three to four days more."

What the captain _didn't_ tell him, was that they had been going in circles for a day now. He was alive during the first war, and would get whatever revenge he could get out of Malfoy.

After all, who doesn't love messing up a Malfoy?

* * *

AN: Took me quite long to update, exams do that to me. They are still going on, and will finish by the end of May. I will ty to update more regularly after that.

That said, Very Happy April Fools Day to all readers who've stuck with me for all this time. You guys are the real MVP.

As can be seen from the chapter (I hope at least), I am taking a new route to the original Make A Wish. It won't be a story which just "Indianizes" the names and is done after that. No, I want to make this as original as I can, while still taking inspiration from Rorschach's classic. So don't expect the same pacing, characters, or situations as the original.

Keep reviewing, because I do read and consider the reviews even if I don't have much time to write stories.

AarabdhT signing off.

#


End file.
